About This Track
"Problems" is a track by Lloyd Banks, from the album Mo Money In The Bank: Part Three - Ca$hing In, released 19th September 2004. Full lyrics are available below.
Lyrics
[Verse: Lloyd Banks] Somebody call the ambulance that nigga chance got hit Is the words screamed by the lone I seen that witnessed it But I'm a take ya back to yesterday before I go on A Friday niggas getting high drunk and so on, but hold on There's something strange about the way it happened Cause he's usually strapping, 4 feeding and Glock packing Laughing, discussions about how much he's been busting But he ain't never hit a soul he just digging a deeper hole But you know How words travel through the gravel Task force pass us all play the block as an avenue Dice games, barbershops, crackheads and what have you For nice chains niggas stab you Like what happened to matthew Chance bragging bout his war stories that nobody asked him Ego so big he probably left the show and walked past it He sure did Spoken word over heard by pat He from the projects up the block he slid in black pump back He slanged a black note back Before he told em what he heard About the fraud taking credit for shells left on the curb, word Nobody got hit but fuck it we riding Matterfact grab the iron, everybody on the block dying This nigga almost at my door crying And matterfact cat don't you still owe me for that, that's right So slim take em upstairs give em the mack Here's the keys to the acc soon as it's done hit me back Niggas bleed just like us, the five unforgettable words from The Notorious, the moral of the story is Crazy glue your lips and don't glorify the drama Especially if your missing, you need a tube to piss in A plastic bag to dump in, a bladder malfunction Mama catchin the holy ghost screaming and jumping, prayin Sayin my baby ain't never did nothing You know what your right, but he was out there fronting There shit to talk bout retaliation on his side Inaccurate shooting dope heads and innocent kids die Right, don't mark your grave cause I stand on it And use your head fore I lay a couple of grand on it Witness go poof watch your soul hit the roof Your still disgracing, room made for your replacement, face it Niggas won't miss ya much when your murked A few'll learn from the shit, your friends'll make you a shirt And there'll be no block mourning you with 40's of beer And marijuana smoke blown in the air, yeah [Interlude: 50 Cent] Get a closer look at Lloyd Banks See his fuckin' medallion It's a fuckin' million green diamonds in there What the fuck is goin' on here? There's fuckin' green dollar sign diamonds in his fuckin' ears This kid has fuckin' money out his ass
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